


Color

by 5SecondsOfButthole



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5SecondsOfButthole/pseuds/5SecondsOfButthole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Privately he wonders if the colors ever really meant anything at all. People seemed to think they were defined by the number of colors on their arms and Ashton couldn't help but wish he had no colors. The rainbows splattered onto his skin always looked wrong, like they were missing something, despite the multitude of colors they still felt blank and empty and if Ashton was being honest, so did he.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Color

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmate AU where you 'mark. people with water color when you love them and touch them but when you meet your soulmate the color is arcylic
> 
> inspired by Zoe13's fic Paint Me Happy

Ashton loved, oh god did he love, everyone he’d ever met and touched were coated in his bright purple streaks and more often than not they would eventually stain him with their colors; splattering their “love” onto his skin.

But when he was alone the colors felt like lies, streaked onto his skin by some stranger who didn’t know how to hold a brush. They felt wrong. Everyone loved Ashton it seemed but they never got close enough to realize they shouldn’t. No one got close enough to see all his bad qualities. He felt like a such a hypocrite, he hated the colors splattered on him but when he painted his love on others he couldn't help but smile; he doesn’t know them, but he knows that everyone deserved to be loved. Well, everyone but him it felt like.

The bright blue and green streaks on the back of his hands from his parents always felt wrong, he remembers all the nights he spent staring at the colors while waiting by the door with his babysitter for his parents to come home from work.

_Three year old Ashton looked up at the babysitter through his mop of curls and asked, “When are mommy and daddy coming home?”_

_The babysitter sat next to him on the floor by the door and pulled him into her lap pushing his hair out of his face and reaching for his hands, her fingers traced the colored lines as she recited the words his parents practically scripted for her, “Your parents have to work late tonight but they love you very much and if you don’t believe me, just look at your hands.”_

_“But daddy promised he would tuck me in tonight,” the toddlers eyes filled with tears and he glared down at the blue and green._

_“Come on buddy, I’ll read you a bedtime story and tuck you in myself, I bet I'm better at it than your dad.”_

All the colors his friends from elementary school left felt wrong. Kids always loved each other.

_Five year old Ashton walked up to his new classmates and announced, “Hi! I'm Ashton.”_

_The kids who heard him said hi too and one brave girl shook his hand, jumping up and down when his purple painted her skin, “It’s such a pretty color!” All the other girls ran up to him and shook his hand too, a few even hugged him; they were all excited at the new color on their skin._

_At the end of the day Ashton had new lines of color; blues and pinks and oranges and other purples. The little boy ran up to his mom and showed them off, telling her which person was which color and babbling on and on about how his purple was the brightest color of them all but they were all still really pretty. He was shushed after a minute so his mom could answer the phone, her assistant calledand that was more important than hearing about his day, that never changed._

When he moved after 4th grade the colors stayed but the names of his “friends” faded and new colors were few and far between. The older he got, the pickier colors were; most people stopped coating everyone with their colors and only marked those they really knew. But Ashton never changed, his purple was never picky.

_His lab partner thought it was weird, “How the fuck can you love everyone like almost every single person at this school has your god damn purple on them. There's only like 5 people with my green, I don’t get it. It’s not fucking normal man.”_

_Ashton just shrugged his shoulders, he’d heard it all before, he’d thought it all before.  But it would never change, he couldn't help it. Sometimes he would see someone with only a few streaks and he couldn't help but want to pain them I purple and let them know people love them. It wasn’t his fault that he loved, “I just really like people man.”_

_“You didn’t even know me for more than 5 minutes and you got your fucking color all over my shoulder.”_

_“I've always been like that, ever since I was a kid. I just love everyone I guess.”_

Privately he wonders if the colors ever really meant anything at all. People seemed to think they were defined by the number of colors on their arms and Ashton couldn't help but wish he had no colors. The rainbows splattered onto his skin always looked wrong, like they were missing something, despite the multitude of colors they still felt blank and empty and if Ashton was being honest, so did he. The colors felt wrong and misplaced, just like he did.

He wonders what his purple would look like on his soul mate. How bright would it be? Would they love it as much as he did?

_He was in that stupid cooking class he was put into because art was full and everyday he was forced to look at this beautiful boy with dark brown eyes that Ashton felt he could stare into for days and a smile that made Ashton want to smile back. He could never bring himself to talk to him until one day when they were in the same group making cookies the guy reached for some dough and Ashton slapped his hand away._

_Bright orange acrylic colors painted his arm, getting brighter by the second and if Ashton thought he loved his purple he was wrong because the orange on his arm was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Even the bright purple painting the beautiful boy’s skin paled in comparison._

_“Hi I'm Calum.” His soul mate said breathily._

_Ashton stared at the beautiful boy and smiled softly, “I'm Ashton.”_

With the bright orange standing out on his arm he didn’t feel so blank. And for the first time the colors on his arms didn’t feel wrong.

 


End file.
